


Straw Into Gold

by TardisInWonderland



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisInWonderland/pseuds/TardisInWonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "The Thread of Life."</p><p>Belle and Rum are now in Storybrooke, under the full effects of Regina's curse, but everything changes when Emma Swan comes to town. Rumpelstiltskin looks for a way to prove to Belle that he loves her, and they both confront age-old heartache. Things are not always what they seem, and sometimes small magic can be the most important of all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Straw Into Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Thread of Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/700124) by [TardisInWonderland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisInWonderland/pseuds/TardisInWonderland). 



> Thanks so much to everyone for all the support for The Thread of Life! I hope the sequel doesn't disappoint...
> 
> I was going to wait to post this until I finished one of my other projects, but my muse won't cooperate, so I just said screw it and decided to post it now.

Isabelle French woke up to the sound of an electronic alarm clock with a groan, the same as she did every morning.

She rolled over in bed, seriously considering going back to sleep but knowing undoubtedly that sleeping in wasn’t a good idea. It was 5AM and she needed to get up, get herself together, and start breakfast before her employer woke.

That was what she got for accepting the job as Mr. Gold’s housekeeper, she supposed.

At the time when she had obtained the position, it hadn’t been such a big deal. Well… it _was_ a big deal, but not as much as it might have been. She needed a job and the Golds needed a housekeeper, as the two of them put together couldn’t keep up their gigantic house _and_ go out and work ordinary jobs, so that was that.

Her days mostly consisted of cooking and cleaning, and when summer came she would tend to the surprisingly massive gardens in the back of the house. It was a good job, and she wasn’t unhappy with it… but she wasn’t overjoyed. If she had a choice, she would have gone off to school for a while longer, maybe even traveled the world, but her degree in Library Sciences didn’t go far in a town where the library had been boarded up for years and the mayor insisted that there was no money in the budget to get it running again.

Isabelle would probably have financed it herself if she had the money.

As it was, she had nothing to complain about, and she told herself that daily. There was a roof over her head, food to eat, and a little extra money in her pocket to put back for a rainy day, and that was all she needed. She was well-liked in town, which was more than could be said for Mr. Gold, and maybe someday she would still be able to go out and see the world. Things were generally looking up for her… Well, they _were_ looking up.

However, that was whenever there was another woman in the house. Now a single housekeeper and a man in the middle of very messy divorce proceedings were seen as a bit of a scandal. Isabelle visibly cringed at the thought as she finally hauled herself out of bed. Things had been fine before the divorce. She’d gotten on with Milah well. The ex-Mrs. Gold had been a good woman, and they seemed to have a happy marriage when Isabelle started working for them six years ago.

Everything had changed three years in, though. She didn’t know why, but Milah had become more distant, staying out later and growing farther apart from her husband. Isabelle could have practically predicted it, truthfully. She had noticed, but never mentioned, that their relationship was slowly on the downslide for several years, both of them becoming colder and harder people, not just around each other.

The tension had finally snapped a year and a half ago, when the affair between Milah and one of the men who worked on the docks had come out in the open. Frankly, Isabelle was surprised that something horrible hadn’t happened to the poor man, or to Milah. Mr. Gold wielded a very large amount of power in town, after all, and the divorce had only made him colder and more distant than he was already.

He wasn’t always like that. She could remember a time whenever he was warm and gentle, and he smiled at everyone...

That was years ago, though, and she couldn’t allow herself to dwell on those painful memories for long. Isabelle hadn’t seen him smile like that for a very long time.

She showered quickly, changed clothes, put her damp hair up in a messy bun and made her way downstairs to start cooking. Mr. Gold would be awake and heading downstairs for breakfast in a half hour, and while it didn’t take long to cook for only two, she wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t have anything to complain about.

Soon enough there was bacon frying, pancakes cooking, and Isabelle was standing next to the counter cutting up kiwi while she waited for Mr. Gold to come downstairs, fighting back a constant stream of yawns. Why was she so sleepy? Granted, she hadn’t slept well in months, but normally she would be fine in the mornings. In fact, she was sleepy enough that her thoughts drifted off during the methodical work, thinking of far-off places and books she’d read, of so many other lives she might be living right now…

She thought about arms wrapping around her waist from behind, about a kiss good morning. She thought about traveling together and not having to spend her sleepless nights alone…

“Isabelle!”

Her hand jerked from surprise and she winced as the blade of the knife nicked her finger. _Damn_. She should know better than to let her mind wander when she worked with sharp objects.

“Have you seen my suit jacket- the navy one?” Gold called from upstairs.

“Picked it up from the cleaner’s yesterday- it should be in the wardrobe on the far left!” Isabelle was more than used to their shouting conversations in the morning while he fought to find all the pieces of… well… everything. Sometimes she wondered how the man managed to keep _himself_ from falling apart. She walked over to the sink to rinse the knife and her hand, wincing at the sting from the citrus juice.

Mr. Gold came downstairs just as she turned the water off and wrapped a towel around her bleeding hand. She tried to make it look like she was drying her hands, but he knew her too well for that.

“Isabelle, did you cut yourself again?” He eyes the towel suspiciously. Isabelle bit her lip.

“Possibly.”

“You’ve got to be more careful, dearie,” he sighed, snatching her hand to examine it. She stood stock still as he scrutinized her injury, not even daring to breathe. “I would like to come home with you still in one piece.”

Isabelle managed a weak smile and a nod before going to rummage for a bandage in the corner cabinet while Mr. Gold helped himself to breakfast. The only sounds were the clinking of silverware against a plate.

“This is fantastic, Isabelle.”

“You say that every morning,” she giggled. And every morning it made her smile, as much as she didn’t want to admit it.

“That’s because it’s good every morning.” Gold smiled as she walked over to the table with her own plate and took a seat. “It’s the part of the day before everything goes sour.”

“Ah,” Isabelle nodded. As insignificant as their morning conversations seemed, she enjoyed them all the same. “What makes it so sour?”

“Everything,” he mumbled absentmindedly, but seemed to realize what he’d said and quickly covered it up with a cough. Isabelle did her best to act like she’d heard nothing, continuing to eat her pancakes in silence.

“I have to- erm- collect the rent today,” he amended quickly. As much as it was a wonderful cover, it was also a huge, flashing warning sign for Isabelle that read “ _He will NOT be in a good mood tonight.”_

“Joy,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes. No one in town liked rent day, including and _especially_ the man who had to collect it. For a moment it almost looked like Mr. Gold was holding back a small smile, but surely she was imagining things.

They finished breakfast in relative silence. Isabelle put the plates and cutlery in the dishwasher (normally she would wash them by hand unless there just wasn’t time, but with the cut on her finger it would be a nuisance) and waited for Mr. Gold to make his way out the door.

“You’ve got everything down for today, yes?” He adjusted his tie and slipped on a long wool coat over his suit.

“Do the laundry, pick up the groceries, clean the library, skin the corpses in the basement…” Isabelle raised an eyebrow at him suggestively at the last comment. He froze.

“What?”

“A quip,” she shrugged, unable to keep a tiny smile away at the look of sheer bewilderment on his face.

“Ah. I see. I’ll… be back at the usual time.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Gold.” Isabelle continued fiddling with breakfast cleanup, purposefully taking her time wiping off the kitchen table just to busy her hands a little longer. She didn’t like being idle around him. Suddenly she felt him slip his fingers under her chin, tilting her head up to look him in the eye.

“How many times have I told you to call me Robert, hm?” He searched her face with his eyes, as if trying to memorize her every feature, but that couldn’t be right. No, not at all…

“Robert, then,” Isabelle breathed, barely daring to speak with him this close to her.

He dropped his hand and walked out the door without so much as a wave.

The second the front door closed behind him, Isabelle sank down in a chair with a deep sigh. There was one other problem with being the single, female housekeeper to a man like Mr. Gold, and frankly it wasn’t a problem that she ever expected to encounter.

Whenever she started this job she never meant to fall in love with him.

 

X

 

Mr. Gold walked down the street towards the pawn shop cursing himself for his stupidity. He should never have gotten that close to her- she looked like a bloody frightened animal. Nothing was worth scaring her that way… even if it meant getting a closer look at lovely pale skin and laughing blue eyes, soft brown hair and teasing full lips-

Gold narrowly missed walking into a streetlamp.

 _Snap out of it_.

There was a twenty year difference between him and his housekeeper, and he wasn’t about to be caught in the middle of his stupid little infatuation and seen as the preying older man. It could ruin everything with the divorce proceedings- everything. In truth, he didn’t think that he’d ever loved his wife- and if he had it was a long, long time ago- but she had to look like the villain here if he really wanted to come out on top in the long run. Legal defenses were nothing if the town wasn’t on your side in the aftermath, meaning he couldn’t afford a relationship with anyone, especially not the housekeeper that half the town was already suspicious of.

It wasn’t anything serious, surely. She was a pretty face, and Isabelle had always been intelligent, but thinking back he couldn’t remember what the hell had possessed him when he hired her! The second she stepped into his house she signed his execution sentence.

No, it wasn’t Isabelle’s fault that there was a divorce. It was coming from the start, and had been for a long time. It was Isabelle’s fault for showing him- showing _both_ of them- what it was like to be cheerful, to by _happy_ again. She simply made them realize how truly miserable their lives were, realize what they wanted.

For Milah, it was another man. She wanted more independence, less responsibility, and frankly someone she found more… sexually satisfying. There was a reason that the Golds had no children. No matter how little love there was between them, though, the betrayal still cut like a knife. He would have preferred she tell him openly and just get it over with rather than to find them on the docks one night…

But he preferred not to think on that night.

For him… well, for a long time Gold hadn’t known what he wanted. When Milah started staying out late, going off randomly, leaving him alone at night, he started talking to Isabelle.

She listened to whatever was going on, and not because it was in her job description, oh no. She had to bloody _wheedle_ it out of him because she knew something was wrong and he was even more miserable than usual. She laughed at his jokes, traded quips back and forth throughout the day, and even once or twice reminded him that his mouth could actually form a smile.

Thunder rolled, and a streak of lightning split the sky as Mr. Gold opened the door to the pawn ship to pick up his account books. Now would probably be a good time to pick up that extra umbrella as well…

Stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Sometime between when the divorce proceedings started and the present, Robert Gold realized that what he wanted most was Isabelle, and there was absolutely no way he could ever have her.

 

X

 

Rent day was the usual- rent day. Everyone hated him anyways, so he didn’t mind being more irritable than usual when he collected their grudging payments. The only good thing was the Isabelle knew he would be in a perfectly nasty mood after rent day (especially a _rainy_ rent day), and she always had a tea tray ready when he arrived home. Rent days were always nasty affairs, and he usually stayed late at the pawn shop getting the books in order, so tea and company were both more than welcome.

He remembered the first night Isabelle had been waiting up with tea. It was another rainy rent day, much like this one, except that Milah hadn’t come home yet, either… again.

 

_“Hey,” Isabelle said softly as he shut the door behind him. She was seated on the sofa in the living room reading a book, a tea tray resting on the low table. The lamp on the side table provided enough light to read by, but no other lights were on._

_“Hey…” Mr. Gold breathed, hanging his coat and scarf. “What are you still doing up?”_

_“Oh, I… I just…” Isabelle fumbled, clearly blushing even in the relatively low light. “Mrs. Gold isn’t back yet-”_

_“Surprise, surprise,” he muttered bitterly. She might not even be back until morning._

_“A-and I knew you’d probably had a rough day, and I just thought… I thought you might like some tea.” She looked down quickly, scratching her neck to try to hide how obviously embarrassed she felt._

_“Why?” Gold raised an eyebrow, taking a hesitant step towards her._

_“When I was younger my aunts always made me tea for troubled times,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve kept up the habit ever since… Um, if you don’t want it-”_

_“No, no.” Gold waved his hand and sat down heavily beside Isabelle. “That was… very thoughtful of you.” He poured himself a hot cup of tea with milk, sipping in silence for several minutes._

_“I would ask how your day was, but I think I can probably guess,” Isabelle said softly, fingers stroking lovingly over the worn cover of the book in her lap._

_“Considering you made tea? Yes, you most definitely could.” He chuckled coldly._

_“Anything I can do?” She risked a glance over at him, blue eyes bright with worry. Mr. gold, for his part, was mildly shocked. Not just anyone was willing to talk to the scary pawnbroker, and here was this woman, only here under employment purpose, who was actually trying to befriend him._

_He was about to tell her no, that there was nothing anyone could do for him, but there was something in her eyes that looked so hopeful, some emotion that he didn’t want to touch because it_ frightened _him. It shook him from his very core and Mr. Gold didn’t like it, not one bit. However, he couldn’t just tell her that there was nothing she could do._

_“Keep making tea.”_

 

They had talked until well past midnight that evening, and had actually still been sitting on the sofa chatting over an empty second pot when Milah walked through the door at 3:42AM. She had been smiling, and Gold was certain that someone had just dropped her off, but for one moment it hadn’t mattered.

Milah had taken one look at her husband and the housekeeper on the sofa, mumbled “hello” and “goodnight” in the same breath, and gone upstairs to their bedroom ashen-faced. Isabelle had seemed worried, as if she’d done something wrong by talking to him, and for some reason that had bothered him. Nothing ever bothered him before then unless it had to do directly with his life. Other people hadn’t been his concern, not until the night Isabelle made him tea.

In fact, the only reason that he knew Milah came in the door at 3:42 was because he came to the conclusion that he started to fall in love with Isabelle when she went to bed at 3:43.

Mr. Gold had slept on the sofa that night, and he hadn’t shared a bed with Milah since, sleeping either in one of the guest rooms or on the sofa every night. The thought was almost pleasant, even in the pouring rain and pounding wind that followed him home as he walked from the pawn shop.

When he finally arrived at his house, Isabelle was asleep on the sofa, a book haphazardly open on the floor beside her. It looked like she had fallen asleep reading again...

But why was she on the sofa? He couldn’t think of a time before when Isabelle had simply fallen asleep on the couch. She’d been very careful to leave no trace of herself around the house, something that Milah had loved and he had hated. His ex-wife may have been able to show off a pretty home and let others think it was her work, but Mr. Gold hadn’t liked the idea of taking all the credit.

He also hadn’t been fond of Isabelle resigning herself to her room on the first floor, content never to show her face at any of Milah’s stupid dinner parties where intelligent conversation would have been more than welcome. She was quiet and introverted, and that was alright with him.

Isabelle shifted in her sleep and curled her arms in a little tighter. Gold imagined that she _had_ to be cold. It was drafty in here. He pulled a blanket from a stack beside the sofa and draped it over her small body gently, careful not to wake her. She didn’t even move.

He suddenly had the urge to brush away the stray lock of hair that had fallen in front of her face, to trace his thumb across her lips… Gold shook himself. What was he _thinking_? He stood over her for another moment, watching her peaceful breathing, before completely giving himself over to his impulse and placing a light kiss on the top of her head.

She shifted a little, but only to curl further into the blanket. Mr. Gold turned to leave the room and give her some peace, shaking his head. Surely he imagined she sighed in her sleep…

“Robert…”

But he didn’t imagine that.

Gold froze, looking back over his shoulder at Isabelle.

She hadn’t woken up yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: The timeline mentioned in years is only the timeline as Isabelle and Mr. Gold remember it in their curse-altered minds. They have, in fact, been undergoing divorce proceedings for twenty-eight years.  
> Think of Regina’s curse working off of “It’s right in front of you, but guess what? You can’t have it.”


End file.
